


Overtime Pay

by Deanon



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), QDND
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, I think this is one of my favorite ones, M/M, Power Imbalance, QDND - Freeform, whatever makes you happier, you can either imagine them as humans or an office AU where they're still orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanon/pseuds/Deanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jojo stays late at the office to help out his overworked boss. Everything goes exactly as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overtime Pay

It was the third night in a row that Jojo had had to stay late at the office.  He wasn’t the only one, of course – a solid half of the department had stayed late on Monday, doing the bulk of the work of changing over the inventory system. It was tedious work, and Jojo _really_ wanted to go home, but these two reports were the last ones that needed to be turned in before his work was entirely done. Already mentally planning an evening of beers, he wasn’t looking very closely when at where he was going when he turned the last corner on the way to his supervisor’s office.

 

The papers went flying everywhere, momentarily obscuring his vision. As he scrambled to pick them up, he looked up – and abruptly dropped all of them again.

 

“Mr. – uh – Mr. Strangenorth,” Jojo stammered, looking down at the department head. He grabbed a sheet of paper right before it fluttered onto Nifty’s face, cringing. “I, uh, didn’t know you were still here.”

 

“Clearly,” Nifty said, scowling at Jojo. Jojo shifted uncomfortably, looking around at the papers that were scattered on the ground, but unsure if he should be leaning over and gathering them up. “Still not done with those reports?”

 

“I just finished them,” Jojo snapped defensively. He rearranged in his arms the few papers that he hadn’t dropped yet. “I was just going to deliver them.”

 

“Right,” Nifty said slowly. He was still staring at Jojo, saying nothing, and Jojo was beginning to get a creeping sensation along his spine. “Well, then, don’t let me keep you. It looks as though you’re doing an _excellent_ job.” After another pointed glance, Nifty walked away, pointedly stepping on one of the fallen papers, and continued on to the elevator. Jojo dropped down and gathered up all the papers in a rough pile before scrambling up and rushing away, as far away from Nifty as he could possibly get.

 

“God, what an asshole,” he muttered, putting the papers into the appropriate folders as best as he could. He reached the office at the end of the hall, pounding on the door. He was the only person left in the office (except, apparently, Nifty), so the “ _Come in_ ” came through the door before he even had a chance to introduce himself.

 

He opened the door and stepped inside, carefully closing it behind him. “I got those reports done,” he said, and was prepared to go on before he got a good look at his boss.

 

He was leaned over his desk, running his hands through his hair, which had been pulled out of its normal short ponytail. Bags were forming under his eyes, adding to his exhausted features.

 

“…Long day, Mr. Magnuson?” Jojo said, sympathetic.

 

“You have _no idea_ ,” his boss groaned, lifting his head off of his desk. “I’ve looked through over 300 pages of transfer documents today. My eyes are crossing.” He leaned back and loosened his tie, and Jojo watched the motion with a mixture of sympathy and… interest. “And I told you, it’s Rotk.”

 

His relationship with his direct supervisor was a little bit strange. In the just over a year that Jojo had been working in the department, they had never been anything but professional. Still, there were moments – like this, when they both stay late at the office, or the couple of the times that they had gone out to drinks afterwards – when Jojo thought that they could have been… well. Friends, maybe?

 

“These can wait until tomorrow,” Jojo said hesitantly, although they really couldn’t. He shifted the stack of papers to the other hand.

 

Rotk groaned softly, and then raised his head and combed his hair back again. “No, no, bring them over here,” he said, gesturing Jojo over. Jojo brought the papers over, making to set them on the opposite side of the desk before Rotk gestured for him to come over to his side of the desk. Rotk took the papers out of his hand, and then gestured at his screen. “Here, take a look at this,” he said, already beginning to flip through the reports. “See any obvious conflicts? I need these submitted by tomorrow morning.”

 

Scowling slightly – this wasn’t the first time his boss had asked him for help, but it was still unusual – Jojo leaned forward, over Rotk’s chair, to begin looking at the screen. The information was dry, and Jojo's eyes skimmed over it as Rotk tried to look at the reports. A comfortable silence fell over the room, ended by Rotk’s long sigh.

 

Suddenly, Jojo realized that he had leaned over and rested his hands on Rotk’s shoulders, his fingers just barely beginning to massage. Startled and embarrassed (he was close with his boss, but not _that_ close), he yanked his hands away.

 

Rotk raised his head slightly, turning just far enough to look at Jojo out of the corner of his eye. Jojo looked away, staring over at a shelf in the corner which appeared to be covered in messily-labeled binders. Jojo became very interested in deciphering their labels.

 

“…You don’t have to stop,” Rotk murmured.

 

“I just wanted to help you relax I wasn’t really thinking sorry – oh,” Jojo babbled. He stared at the back of Rotk’s head.

 

Rotk turned back to the papers, and Jojo, when nothing else was said, shuffled forward and began massaging Rotk’s shoulders again, digging his fingers into the tense muscles there. Tension seemed to slowly slide out of Rotk, but he didn’t sigh again. Jojo worked his fingers in, fascinated by the way that Rotk leaned into his touch.

 

About a minute later, Jojo realized that he hadn’t scrolled down on the document at all, and Rotk hadn’t shuffled the papers. He dug his thumbs into the tense joint of muscle at the back of Rotk’s neck, and Rotk shivered.

 

Jojo realized that he was getting hard.

 

His breath stuttered, and his hands faltered slightly before continuing. Rotk didn’t seem to be looking at the papers at all at this point, and Jojo was no longer even pretending to read the document on the screen, which had gone dim.

Suddenly, Rotk straightened, which startled Jojo backwards, nearly colliding with the ceiling-high bookshelf behind him. Rotk stood slowly, purposefully, turning and looking at Jojo. Jojo frantically willed himself to go soft. It didn’t work.

 

“I, uh, um,” Jojo said quickly, flustered. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t see any errors, is that all that you – “

 

Rotk smiled slightly, backing Jojo further up against the shelf. A book toppled to the ground, knocked over by Jojo’s elbow, completely ignored by both of them. Jojo was painfully aware of the fact that he was hard, getting harder with Rotk’s proximity and the strange look in Rotk’s eye. His breath went a little unsteady.

 

Rotk’s eyes glanced downward, quick but pointed, and Jojo felt himself flush, almost painful. “Uh,” he said, and then couldn’t think of how to continue that. _Sorry I got hard while giving you a massage alone in your office?_ Not the kind of thing you usually had to say to your boss. Jojo glanced down too, curiosity momentarily overwhelming him, and saw that Rotk was – clearly, well, _interested_ as well.

 

Jojo didn’t realized he’d stopped breathing, or that he was staring, until Rotk took another step forward, bringing himself so firmly into Jojo’s personal space that it was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening anymore, and wanted to say something like _isn’t this inappropriate_ or _um, wait, what?_ , but couldn’t quite get himself to say anything at all.

 

Rotk reached up and placed hands on Jojo’s shoulders, and Jojo had the momentary thought, _oh, maybe he’s going to give me a massage too. That’d be okay. No, wait, no, that’d probably still be. Um._ And then Rotk said, voice low, “You were just trying to help me relax, right?”

 

“Right!” Jojo said, almost squeaking on the word. “I mean, yeah of course, I, uh – “

 

“Get on your knees,” Rotk murmured to him, and pushed down.

 

Jojo went.

 

And then panicked.

 

“Isn’t this innapropriate?” Jojo babbled, blurting out the first thought in his head. The wood was a little uncomfortable under his knees, and looking at Rotk from this angle was – um. Jojo looked over at the shelf of binders again. “I mean your father owns the company and nobody actually reads the employee handbook but I think there’s something in there about – “

 

“My father,” Rotk said, his voice turning a little cold, “has kept me here until 9 pm every day for three weeks. I shape my schedule and activities around my father’s desires and rules for twelve hours a day five days a week. Sometimes six. This,” Rotk slipped a hand from Jojo’s shoulder to tangle in his dreadlocks, “is for me.”

 

Jojo looked back up at Rotk, and felt another jolt of heat in his groin. “…Oh,” he said faintly.

 

Rotk took the hand that wasn’t in Jojo’s hair, and unzipped his pants, and Jojo said, just as faintly, “Okay,” and leaned forward.

 

He hadn’t admitted to himself until that moment just how badly he wanted this. Faced with it, though – literally – he felt flustered and strangely desperately. He pushed Rotk’s hands away from his fly and pulled his pants down to his knees himself, already leaning forward to mouth at him through his briefs. Rotk reached up and got halfway through unbuttoning his shirt before his hand returned to Jojo’s hair, his breath stuttering. Jojo pressed him mouth forward again at the significant bulge under Rotk’s briefs.

 

Rotk hissed, squeezing the hand in Jojo’s hair. Under Jojo’s mouth, Rotk went hard almost startlingly fast, his breathing going a little shallow.  Jojo’s front teeth just barely grazed him through the cloth, and he drew back quickly, his breath moistening the fabric before him.

 

Rotk’s hand reached over and guided Jojo’s mouth back, murmuring, “No, no, it’s good, it’s – “

 

Heart beating in his throat, Jojo reached forward and pulled Rotk’s briefs down, and sucked in a breath. It had been obvious through Rotk’s briefs that he was above average, but it was obvious that he was – uh, proportional.

 

Jojo leaned forward and, unwilling to do anything halfway, took as much in his mouth as he could.

 

He immediately choked and pulled back at the same moment that Rotk’s hand tightened in his hair, causing his teeth to scrape against him again. Jojo yanked backwards and coughed, loosening his tie to give himself room to breathe. “Sorry,” he said, a little rough, “Sorry, my teeth – “

 

“It’s fine,” Rotk said again. His voice was very low, and the hand in Jojo’s dreadlocks hadn’t loosened. “I don’t mind, you can – bite it, a little,” and Jojo leaned forward and scraped his lower teeth along Rotk’s length, just barely, and Rotk hissed, hands tightening again. “Yes,” Rotk hissed, “yes, like that – “

 

Encouraged, Jojo tried again, going down slower, scraping his teeth just barely along the veins on the bottom. He couldn’t get even half of the length in, it seemed, but Rotk didn’t seem to care, breathing hard as Jojo pulled back and sunk back down, a little further. Jojo reached down and entirely removed his shirt, only his tie staying draped around his neck where he had untied it, before he reached around and braced his hands on the backs of Rotk’s thighs, and nearly managed to push past his gag reflex. Rotk’s hand tightened, pushing him down slightly again as he hissed, “ _Yes_ – “

 

Jojo choked slightly again, pulling off entirely and then reaching around and squeezing the backs of Rotk’s thighs. The muscles there shifted as Rotk thrust forward slightly, beginning to build a rhythm against Jojo’s mouth.

 

“Ah – ah – wait,” Rotk said, using the hand in Jojo’s hair to pull him back, and then up. He wasn’t quite rough, but Jojo still winced at the tug as he stumbled up. He had no idea how hard he was until that second, when his legs nearly gave out beneath him, buckling slightly at the _aching_ in his groin.

 

“You, uh,” Jojo said, and Rotk pulled him forward once more by his hair and kissed him.

 

There was a lot of teeth and a little blood, and it grew heated fast, Jojo reaching back to entirely push Rotk’s dress shirt off of his shoulders and grab at his shoulders. Rotk grabbed Jojo’s shoulders and pushed backwards, hard, sending Jojo tumbling into the desk, knocking over the reports from earlier. Jojo almost said something, and then Rotk leaned over him, putting pressure that he _desperately_ wanted on his groin, and he forgot about it entirely.

 

Rotk shoved some other papers off of his desk, leaning Jojo back over it entirely. Jojo yanked Rotk down and kissed him again, and Rotk nipped as his lip, drawing more blood. The hand that wasn’t holding Jojo down reached down and yanked at Jojo’s pants. It felt like maybe he tore the zipper a little, but Jojo _didn’t care_ , pressing up into the touch, and Rotk was hissing and putting a knee up onto the desk to give himself better leverage.

 

“Do you have – “ Jojo started, and then broke off and cried out when Rotk manages to rock forward and get actual friction, and oh, fuck, he could not believe this was actually happening, he could not believe this was happening on his boss’s desk –

 

Rotk leaned down, breaking the contact for a second to reach down. Jojo felt the breath leave his body, because he wasn’t sure he actually wanted – but Rotk came back up with lotion, standard Vaseline stuff.

 

“Uh, what are you,” Jojo said, and then Rotk squirted some onto his dick, which felt simultaneously kind of silly and _really_ good.

 

And then Rotk leaned forward and rocked against him again with that incredible friction and pressure, and Jojo forgot entirely about why this was anything other than the best idea anybody had ever had.

 

They built up into a rhythm, and Jojo came back to himself long enough to realize that he was moaning, continuously, entirely over the lower grunts of Rotk thrusting forward. Rotk shifted angles, then, and he slipped – lower –

 

“ _Ahhh_ ,” Rotk hissed, his head dropping onto Jojo’s shoulder. He thrust forward again, his length slipping underneath Jojo’s balls, into the space where his thighs were pressed together. Jojo gasped, puzzled at the sensation but really enjoying it, at the same time.

 

“Ah, ah,” Rotk said, thrusting forward, his way smoothed by lotion. He leaned down and bit solidly at Jojo’s neck, immediately drawing blood. Jojo leaned his head to the side immediately, giving him better access. His head was spinning, the friction against his balls and thighs and ass pleasant in a way that he wasn’t used to, unrelenting.

 

“Shit,” Rotk hissed, his thrusts getting erratic, “shit, _shit Jojo_ – “

 

Rotk bit Jojo’s neck again and bit down hard, and it felt like _fire_ going through him, and he wasn’t entirely conscious of reaching down to finish himself off, his pulse jumping, his head thumping hard against the desk as he threw it back and he was, distantly, aware of a noise coming out of his mouth –

 

The afterglow drifted in, hazy, making the discomfort of being bent over a desk seem pretty unimportant overall. His pants were around his ankles, his shirt was missing, he was pretty sure there was blood on some of Rotk’s important documents and there was definitely come on his desk.

 

Jojo tried hard to care, and completely failed.

 

After a short time, though, Rotk got up, already cleaning himself off. He glanced at his desk, and then seemed to give it up as a lost cause for the moment, instead pulling up his pants and tucking himself back inside, not entirely buttoning them yet. He picked up his shirt and put it back on, buttoning it back up. He picked up his tie and draped it around his neck, and then looked at Jojo, who suddenly realized that he was still lounging back on the desk, mostly unclothed and covered in come. He scrambled off the desk, bumping the laptop further to the side and entirely knocking off a container of pens as he yanked his pants up and grabbed his shirt and buttoned the buttons, putting most of the them in the wrong holes. He glanced up at Rotk, and then, unable to read anything from his boss’s expression as he buttoned his cufflinks, looked back down.

 

“We have a meeting tomorrow at 9 am,” Rotk said. He was watching Jojo, and unreadable expression on his face – not quite fond, but not disapproving, either. Jojo tried to fix the buttons on his shirt, and eventually accepted that he was just going to have his shirt buttoned slightly askew. He tucked it in. It wasn’t that obvious.

 

And then he remembered that his neck was still bleeding slightly, and, yeah, okay, it was obvious to anyone with eyes, and he was fucked. He dropped his hands and stared at Rotk.

 

“Don’t be late,” Rotk added, leaning against the bookshelf.

 

“Okay,” Jojo said, uncomfortable, completely at a loss for words. He stared at Rotk, who stared back –

 

Jojo grabbed his chin and kissed him, fast and hard, before Rotk had a chance to react. When he pulled back, Rotk was staring at him, slightly wide-eyed, still not saying anything. Slowly, a miniscule smile formed on his face.

 

“See you tomorrow,” Jojo said firmly, and turned to leave.

 

“Jojo,” Rotk said, stopping him before he could get back around the desk again. Jojo turned, and Rotk draped his tie around his neck before returning to leaning against the bookshelf.

 

“See you tomorrow,” Rotk said.

 

Jojo stared, baffled, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

 

Jojo nearly jumped out of his skin, staring at the door with unmasked horror. “I- I thought everyone had left - “ he stammered, making no move to go open the door.

 

Rotk stared at the door, and then Jojo, and then pushed Jojo back towards the desk and stepped forward over the door. He straightened his tie, and Jojo had a second to curse that he managed to look so put-together, aside from a growing hickey on the side of his neck. He went to fix his buttons again, and then realized that there was nothing that he could do, started attempting to tie his tie, fumbled it a few times, and then just dropped his hands and gave up. Rotk opened the door.

 

“I heard a… ah… shout,” Nifty said from the hall. Rotk obscured most of the view of the room, but Jojo could see a flash of blonde hair and felt his stomach sink into his toes. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Everything is perfectly fine,” Rotk said, sounding barely composed.

 

“Are you sure?” Was the asshole laughing at them? “It seemed rather… distressed. And your coworker here looks rather beat up.”

 

“Oh, no, uh, I just - had a long day, uh - “ Jojo babbled, staring in horror at Nifty’s knowing smirk. Embarrassment was curdling his stomach, and Rotk’s shoulders were tense again.

 

“My coworker,” Rotk said firmly, “was just leaving.”

 

“Right, I - was? Yeah,” Jojo said, frantic, and then desperately shoved by Nifty on the way out, not daring to look at his face. He rushed down the hall and, deciding that the elevator was too slow, slammed open the door to the stairs and rushed down them.

 

God, fuck, he was not going to enjoy coming in to work tomorrow.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Ashley drew art to accompany this fic!](http://dickitout.tumblr.com/post/71397110517/so-uh-dee-wrote-something-for-sara-and-my)


End file.
